


Ours

by Desdimonda



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-07
Updated: 2016-06-07
Packaged: 2018-07-12 22:46:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 992
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7126267
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Desdimonda/pseuds/Desdimonda
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>McCree takes on a fool's pursuit, but Hanzo doesn't let him go alone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ours

“I think it’s this way,” said Jesse, from several steps ahead. He could already hear the unimpressed grunt from his company, and the slog of his steps across the sand and stone. They had been walking for hours, baking in the bright, unforgiving heat of the south west.

At least he  _ thought _ it was this way. Their trail had gone cold. The trail of the Deadlocks they had been tailing for a day. Jesse had insisted he take the head on this one. No-one had argued; no-one but Hanzo.

_ “What you’re doing is suicide,” he had said, the words falling past his lips before he had even realised. The surprise in his eyes made Jesse smirk. “It’d be like me walking into my family home, expecting an embrace, and instead falling to a dagger in my back.” _

_ “I ain’t walking in the front door, Hanzo,” said Jesse, taking a draw of his smoke.  _

_ “Well I’m walking with you.” _

At that, Jesse had paused. He hadn’t considered doing this with someone, but the more he thought about doing this at Hanzo’s side, the more the appeal of the the lone vigilante pursuit, paled.

“You think? Don’t you know?” said Hanzo, pushing back the shock of black hair that fell into his damp brow, tinged with sweat. “You’re an American. You live here.”

Jesse laughed. He laughed so loud and hard he had to stop. “Hanzo - you for real? I’m an American so I should know where I’m going. I don’t even know where to start with that. Actually I do. I don’t even know what  _ day  _ it is.”

Hanzo sneered, stepping into the shade of a broken canopy of the deserted rest stop, the door unhinged, shattered, at their feet. The sun had already tinged his bared shoulder and chest red. And it was not long past noon, with a cloudless sky. 

Jesse sighed and began to unclip his cloak, the red material slipping down his arm as he let it fall, the edge held securely in one hand. “Here. Didn’t you put on sunscreen?”

“No.” Hanzo stared at the cloak, held out casually before him, Jesse’s face darkened by the shadow of his hat. Why did he care? Wait. Did he  _ care _ ? No.

He took the cloak and slipped it around his shoulders, making sure his bare skin was covered. “Thanks,” he said, muted, leaning back against the shattered wall. Jesse joined him and lit a cigar as they basked in the shade. “And it’s Thursday.”

Jesse blew out a coil of smoke and smiled. “Thanks, Hanzo,” he said, turning to the archer. “You got my back in reminding me of what day it is at least.”

“Not just that,” said Hanzo, the words falling past his lips before he even knew what he was saying. Jesse paused, his cigar poised before his lips, parted, heavy lids half closed over his shaded eyes. 

“Why did you come with me?” he asked, the haze of smoke obscuring his face, his gaze, the upturn of his lips, curved to a small smile - or was that a jeer? 

Hanzo pushed aside the falling shock of hair, the roots dampened with sweat. “It was a fool’s journey to do this alone.”

“And what if I wanted to do it alone?” he said. “What if I wanted to make it a fool’s journey - to seek my redemption, no matter the cost.”

The words echoed in Hanzo’s mind - for they were also his own. Words he spoke to himself, endlessly, as he walked the path to reclaim his honour - his sense of worth. But this - this was foolish. Anyone could see that. Had Jesse really reached that point? To recklessly walk into the fire, unclothed, blind.

Jesse sighed and turned away from Hanzo, taking a long, calming draw of his cigar. He blew out the cloud of smoke, covering his face in the grey haze as he closed his eyes, his other hand hoisted on the edge of his belt.

“I thought you of all people would understand,” said Jesse, his eyes still closed. “With all your talk about redemption, honour and shit.”

“Self destruction is not the right path,” said Hanzo, as he tentatively reached out to Jesse’s shoulder, his fingers sliding over the metal edge of his prosthetic arm, covered by the thin cotton of his shirt. The ends of his thick hair brushed against the pads of his fingers. Jesse turned his head towards Hanzo’s hand, just a little.

“Yeah well, it seemed a good idea at the time,” he said, flicking off a wedge of ash from his cigar. “In a way, I got a lot to thank these guys for. If I wasn’t captured by Overwatch, I wouldn’t have been enlisted into Blackwatch. And well - you know the rest,” he said, his words slow, elongated. Hanzo’s fingers curved through the ends of his hair, edging across his reconstructed shoulder. “But they ain’t right for this world. For whatever good they brought, it’s way overshadowed by the bad. And I was part of that bad. So it’s my responsibility.”

“It isn’t,” said Hanzo, his voice quiet as he caught Jesse’s gaze.

“Oh yeah? And if it ain’t mine, who’s is it?” he asked, flippant, flicking off another edge of ash.

Hanzo’s fingers, still coiled in the waves of Jesse’s hair brushed against the curve of his neck. “Ours.”

And then Jesse smiled. He dipped his head, shadowed by the brim of his hat, his neck brushing against the  glance of Hanzo’s fingers. “Ours huh?” He took another draw of his cigar and let the coil of smoke pass his lips, slowly. “Any bright ideas then, partner?”

“Just one.”

And he curved the hand at his neck around his head, weaving through the thick, brown waves and stepped once, twice, closing the small gap between them as he caught Jesse in a kiss.  
  
The cigar fell to the ground at their feet with a hiss.


End file.
